Top Battle
by fullscaleninja
Summary: For two years the city had been thrown into turmoil, starting with mild gang rivalry and escalating to brutal killings. Now, with police involvement, ruthless peacemakers, and two-timing traitors, the city faces its limits as the dark underworld threatens to engulf everything it holds dear. Mafia AU based on the fake trailer in episode 26.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Welp, I did the thing. I started another story without finishing the others. Hate me all you want, but I'm going to go ahead and blame my intense fandom-hopping tendency because hell, here's a story for one of the most unlike-me animes on the planet.

So in case you don't know, this is based on the fake movie trailer shown in the Namassuka! segment of episode 26 of the Idolmaster! anime. Now that I think about it, there probably already is a fic based on this AU, but given that I didn't search for/find one, I'm hoping my fic is 100% my concoction. Well, mine and Idolmaster's, but that goes without saying.

Anyway, yeah, I really don't have a structured plot in mind, so I apologize if it seems slow at first. But seriously, if you watch that fake trailer, they pretty much spoil the ending so I don't think it'll be that exciting, but whatever man.

Fire away!

Oh, and a disclaimer because Idolmaster ain't mine.

And rated T because language? and possible violence?

* * *

The sun was just shy of the horizon when the police cruiser pulled up beside the warehouse, its tires crunching along the unpaved road with a gritty sound. Had it not been for the five additional cruisers and two ambulance trucks following closely behind, the car would have looked lost in such an empty, forlorn neighborhood. The driver-side door opened as soon as the cruiser screeched to a halt, the engine left running as the driver dashed out.

"Is this the one?" she asked breathlessly as she met up with several other officers at the door of the warehouse. Her words turned to mist before her eyes, the cold air eating them up before the light drizzle could.

"Aye, detective. According to the tip," an officer replied tersely.

With a grim nod and a few nonverbal signals to her squad, she gripped the rusty door handle in one hand while adjusting her hold on her weapon with the other. In one swift motion, she barreled through the door, crouched down low, and swept her eyes across the room, the gun tailing her gaze closely. The rest of the platoon was hot on her heels, forming ranks behind her with weapons raised and ready to fire.

Seeing no sign of threat other than a misshapen bundle in the far corner of the spacious warehouse, the detective motioned for half of the men to check it out while urging the other half to follow her to the side door.

It was locked, but a few kicks from a couple of iron-clad sergeants loosened the decaying frame and brittle bolt until the entire door fell inwards with a blast that echoed around the entire building. Inside was a small room the size of an average bedroom, littered with loose paper and cluttered with broken furniture. There were no other doors or windows.

"Clear!"

The call cut through the cold, oppressive silence like a gunshot. The attention was now on the unidentified bundle in the corner, covered clumsily with plastic blue tarp. Everyone in the vicinity already knew what was underneath, as if the vague outline and the stray sneaker wasn't enough of a giveaway. But it was the detective that received the honor of unveiling it.

The tarp fell away, and two dozen curses were uttered simultaneously, some whispered, others growled. There were three bodies, leaning haphazardly against each other in such a way that could be mistaken for peaceful slumber, had it not been for the bloodstained clothes and pained expressions. They were young girls — the oldest couldn't be any more than fifteen.

"D-detective, isn't that…your cousin?"

Her expression did not change at her subordinate's question, but she motioned for the ambulance team before reaching into her jacket to pull out three photos.

"Ai Hidaka." She tossed a photo at the feet of one of the bodies. "Eri Mizutani. And…" She frowned at the last picture before throwing it down. "Ryo Akizuki."

The tension in the room increased tenfold as the last photo slid to a stop. All three reflected happy, smiling images of their now motionless subjects.

"Reported missing since last Friday, found dead three days later. Beaten and tortured, by the looks of it," she sighed.

"Detective, are these the members of that branch you were talking about?"

Adjusting her glasses to hide the brief pain that flashed across her face, Detective Ritsuko Akizuki straightened and faced the surrounding officers with narrowed eyes.

"Listen carefully. You may think that these are harmless girls at the consequence of misfortune, but don't be fooled. These are highly dangerous, organized criminals associated with the most ruthless gangs in the city. These three —" she jabbed a finger at the slumped bodies "— are part of the 876 gang, a small branch of the Miuragumi."

There were several sounds of disbelief.

"These girls?" an officer asked, clearly uncomfortable with their deceitful innocence. "Part of _that_ Miuragumi?"

"Those bodies we pulled from the river last week were also part of the gang." Ritsuko turned on her heel and headed for the door. "Despite their appearance, they're considered trained killers. Get used to stuff like this." Her order would have seemed harsh and uncaring if it weren't for the slight break in her voice. She passed the ambulance team on her way out, wheeling in gurneys that would serve no purpose but as first-class seats to the morgue.

Her phone rang as she stepped back outside, and she unclipped it from her belt, vaguely observing the seemingly distant activity of the police checking surrounding warehouses for more leads.

"Hello?"

"Ah, Ritsuko-kun. Was the tip true?"

"Chief," she greeted morosely. "It was, but we were too late."

"Any leads on the suspect?"

"None, sir." She could feel a headache growing, and she rested her hand on top of her head to find that her clipped bun was falling into a mess of stray brown hair. "At least, not an individual."

There was a grunt of understanding on the other end. "For now, return to headquarters. We need you on a different case immediately."

"Right away, sir."

She ended the call before he could hear her shuddering sigh. She looked up into the drizzling sky, searching the gray clouds for an answer she was not sure she wanted to find.

_Ryo_…

Just then the sun rose above the rooftops, bathing the dreary scene with a brief, soft orange glow. The light of a new day. Full of promise and potential.

* * *

The morning's drizzle had turned into a steady shower in the evening, and by nighttime, it was a drenching downpour. There was a damp chill in the air, too crisp to be considered winter's breath but too frigid to be a summer breeze.

Two figures stood out in the river of a street, indifferent to the rain and motionless as statues. Their eyes, however, remained sharp and vigilant, scanning the dark street for any sign of movement. One of them held a bright red umbrella — a signal flare in such a dark and dreary environment — while the other held a pitch black one, which blended in so perfectly that at a first glance, the figure appeared headless. Their umbrellas threw shadows over their faces, obscuring their expressions as well as their features.

But Hibiki knew exactly what they were.

A brief wind sent shivers down her soaked figure, and she peeled the drenched shirt away from her body before clawing away the persistent hair from her face. Her breath came out in clouds of white, disappearing as soon as it came. With her back against the telephone pole that served as her hiding place, she drew in several deep breaths to clear her mind.

She had the element of surprise on her side, but she was badly outnumbered. She risked a glance over her shoulder to the grand gates of the estate and the two figures that stood motionless before it. Bodyguards. No doubt there were more inside.

But was she afraid?

Absolutely not.

She was Hibiki Ganaha, known as "The Bullet" on the streets. She was the fastest human being alive, able to outrun cars and weave through bullets like a squirrel jacked with caffeine. Her skills with a blade were legendary, ironically in contrast with her nickname, and she could gut a man before he could even see her approach.

No, there was no need for fear.

Her orders were simple. Kill the boss of the opposing gang, the sworn enemies of the Miuragumi. Hibiki had never seen the boss herself, but finding her would not be difficult, according to her description. How many other mafia leaders have flowing white hair?

Her hands tightened on her weapon at the thought of the news of the murders reported this morning. The numbers of the 876 branch were dwindling, enough for the group to take drastic measures. Hence her assignment.

"Eri…Ryo…Ai…" she whispered, gritting her teeth. "This is for you guys."

She tensed as voices drifted from across the street, from the two guards.

"Ohime-chin's late, huh," one of them asked.

"You think we should check on her?" an identical voice replied.

Hibiki stiffened. Same voices. Twins.

_The Futami Twins_.

Her tongue clicked softly against her teeth. Not only was she outnumbered, she was also outmatched. Stealth would not work in this case, and her speed would not be enough to take everyone down. The twins were the most loyal and skilled subordinates to the target, and it would be foolish to assume their guard would be down at her presence.

Fear flashed briefly in her heart, but she pushed it away forcefully. No. She was Hibiki Ganaha. Fast as a bullet. She'll dash in, kill off the white-haired princess, and vanish before a single shot could be fired. She was close; there was no way anyone could raise their weapons fast enough to fire at her before she got to the boss.

"I'll go look for her."

Hibiki turned in time to see one of them close an umbrella — the black one — and shake it free of water droplets. But before she could even turn around, her boss was there, a mysterious smile fixed in place.

"Only a moment more," she said quietly to the twins, almost too quietly for Hibiki to hear over the distance and torrent of the rain. She turned around, as graceful as a queen, throwing back her shining silver hair.

This was it.

Her back was turned and her subordinates were distracted, their hands free of weapons and occupied with umbrellas.

Hibiki gripped her blade tight and exhaled once more before sucking in a lungful of cold, damp air. Before she could lose her courage, she jumped out of her hiding spot, knife at the ready.

She didn't even notice she was screaming until she saw the guards look up.

"_Gotcha!_" she yelled, charging in fast. Faster than anyone.

The twin with the black umbrella reacted first, dropping her umbrella and scrambling for her gun. But Hibiki was way ahead of her.

_At this rate I can push past her and go straight to the boss before she could even find her weapon_.

Caught on an adrenaline rush and already deluded with her potential victory, she failed to notice the other twin on time. Her gun was in her hands. Her finger was already on the trigger.

_Fast…Too fast!_

A flash of light.

A gunshot.

A dark shape reeling back from the light.

A red umbrella, flying into the air.

* * *

"…Well, Ohime-chin. What d'you make of this?"

Quiet footsteps approached. Hibiki had only enough energy to blearily open her eyes and glare up at the three figures standing over her. Her chest hurt terribly, but everything was smoothly fading away. Even the pain.

Shijou Takane stood as her would-be assassin slumped to the ground with a final breath. She turned to her trusted subordinates with a thin smile.

"Leave her. The police will find her soon enough."

"That's what you get, Miura trash!" a twin said to the unresponsive Hibiki with a triumphant leer.

"Ami…" the other twin warned. "You know, if Mami weren't here to cover for you, this _trash_ would have gotten to Ohime-chin." She bent to pick up her fallen umbrella and picked up her sister's from a puddle.

"Heh…sorry, Mami," she responded, taking the drenched umbrella from her.

"Ami. Mami," Takane called. "Come. We are done here."

She led the way to the car, with the twins fighting over who gets to hold the umbrella over their boss while getting drenched in the process.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Oh wow a second chapter already? yeah well I just want to let everyone who reads this know that I probably will _not_ be updating this story as soon as I finish a chapter, just because I don't have a set plot and I don't want to edit the story once it's published. The last thing I want to say is "oh, I changed the entire story, so go back to chapter 1 and start over!" because that would be a douchebaggery thing for me to do. So just don't panic if I go on a random hiatus, okay? I mean most of my stories are on a hiatus already anyway so I don't think it'd be that much of a surprise, but still.

Anyway here's chapter 2, which is mostly just some background info. Apologies if it sounds rushed, but I really did want to get this out before the day was over.

Reviews/critiques are welcome and appreciated!

* * *

Around the same time Hibiki Ganaha charged to her death with her final battle cry, the door to a deceitfully innocent-looking restaurant opened with a merry jingle of bells. At a first glance, the interior of Taruki-Ten betrayed absolutely no suspicion; there were a handful of tables lined in neat rows, soft carpeting, delicate lights hanging from the ceiling, and polite waiters and waitresses ready to welcome the diners as soon as the bell above the door rang.

But the newcomer saw through its façade, remaining expressionless as the hostess approached with several menus in her hands.

"Table for…one —?"

Her polite demeanor faltered for a moment when she got a closer look at her newest guest. Trying not to stare and drool, she zapped on her professional smile and cleared her throat to try once more. "Table for one?"

Used to this kind of reaction from the entire female population, the guest merely held up a folded slip of paper without a word. Slightly puzzled, the hostess took the paper and scanned the words upon it with obvious confusion. But as her eyes reached the bottom, her smile melted off to be replaced by an expression of heavy understanding. She looked back up at the customer, unsmiling, no longer infatuated like a maiden in love.

"This way, please."

She led the way to the back of the restaurant, her guest following silently behind. In the narrow hallway leading to the bathrooms, she turned and pulled open the door to reveal a set of stairs, and, ignoring the "staff only" sign, led the guest upstairs to the rooms above.

Such was the secret behind Taruki-Ten, a secret that not too many civilians were aware of as they dined on the restaurant's signature dishes with their friends and families. While the plain-looking storefront yielded nothing out of the ordinary, its upstairs hid dangerous mysteries that dangled above the heads of innocent diners like a poisonous cloud.

The hostess reached the top of the stairs with a blank mask that contrasted drastically with her smile downstairs. The stairs opened up into a large, open room, its hardwood floors littered with plush couches and decorative coffee tables. There was club music booming from the speakers, soft enough so as to not arouse suspicion downstairs but loud enough to bring conversations just shy of a shouting match.

Cigarette smoke filled the air and the smell of alcohol was powerful enough to get secondhand intoxication. Various men and women occupied the couches, each sex sporting similar attire: the men with casual suits and the women with skimpy yet expensive-looking dresses. The purpose of this room was obvious, as if the adjoining hallway with multiple curtained doors weren't enough to spell it out.

With a strained smile, the hostess gestured to the far corner and produced a different menu from her pocket before offering it to the guest.

"I'm underage," the guest replied, speaking for the first time.

If the hostess was surprised at the statement, she didn't show it. With a small bow and a muttered "enjoy your stay," that sounded less than sincere, she started back down the stairs.

Without questioning why an underage guest has permission to go upstairs in the first place.

Without questioning why an underage guest who has no problems breaking the law to enter such a place would refuse a drink.

People don't ask questions like that. Not if they want to continue living a normal life.

Said guest walked calmly towards the corner couch the hostess had pointed to, ignoring the sultry calls from the unoccupied girls, and found the writer of the note that now weighed heavily in the hostess' pocket. Her blonde hair was a careless mess and her red dress was a little too short, but the smile she wore and the sharp look in her eyes spoke a different language.

"Aha! Oh, you're so silly! No, no. Miki will pass. Drinks make me sleepy and I'm already…afu~…so tired."

Although nothing about what she said was funny, the gaggle of men surrounding her on the couch erupted into drunken laughter, slapping their knees and falling sideways into her lap as she leaned back with a yawn of honest fatigue.

She paused mid-yawn when she caught sight of the guest, standing stony-faced behind her like a judgmental statue. Her face immediately brightened a considerable amount and she twisted in her seat to view the newcomer right side-up.

"Makoto-kun!"

She pushed the drunken men away from her with an attitude that seemed much more innocent than it should have, like a child sweeping away her toys so her pet can lay down next to her. "You guys can go away now," she told them seriously, though it was clear none of them took it as an offense. With a delighted smile and a wink, she gestured for the aloof guest to join her at the sofa as the other men shambled away.

"You know, Miki was only joking when she said you should visit at work!" she said happily once Makoto Kikuchi, Miuragumi's second subordinate, took a seat beside her. Miki clung to Makoto's arm, oblivious to the tight smile on the latter's face. "To be honest, Miki's glad you came! Those guys were getting so boring and Miki was getting so tired…" she heaved another yawn and peeked out of the side of her eyes to watch Makoto's reaction. "Hey, hey! You want to drink something, Makoto-kun?"

"No thanks," she replied, smiling with her boyish charm.

"Then how about some food? This place makes the best onigiri around!"

"I'm good, thanks—"

"How about a dance, then? I could ask them to change the song to a more romantic one~"

"It's oka—"

"Oh! How about we call a couple of those guys back here? I'm pretty sure there's a dress in the back room that we can lend you—"

"Miki," Makoto interrupted, a helpless smile on her face. "I'm not exactly here to play. I'm actually here on business."

Miki dropped her gaze for a moment, but her smile remained fixed in place. "Hmm. Makoto-kun's no fun. Miki hoped you were here to relax from all that…" her eyelids drooped a little. "Hard work," she added after a noticeable pause.

With barely any acknowledgement to her words, Makoto reached into her pocket and drew out a healthy stack of bills before handing it discreetly to the smiling blonde. Miki took the money without so much as a glance, and in one fluid, practiced movement, slid it down her cleavage before adjusting her dress.

"And what does the great Makoto Kikuchi of Miuragumi want to know on this fine night?" she said with a smirk that didn't match her eyes.

Makoto had been staring at the spot where her money had disappeared with comical confusion, but straightened seriously at Miki's question. "I want to know everything you know about the IDOLgumi and their involvement in town."

"Impossible," Miki said without missing a beat.

"Wha—?"

"There are plenty of things Miki can't tell," she clarified. "Both the clients and the shops set certain restrictions on the girls here. We can't give _everything_ away."

Makoto wasn't too fond of being talked to like an ignorant child, especially from a seemingly empty-headed girl like Miki. But she knew that this airhead had far more ability than her initial impression suggested. An employee of the city's most prominent information broker and part-time double-agent spy, Miki Hoshii rejected every foolhardy assumption that she was just another attention-seeking sex figure. Her careless nature and childish smile hid more secrets than Makoto would ever want to know.

With a frustrated sigh, she ran a hand through her short hair and rephrased her question.

"Then how about the basics?"

"The basics of IDOLgumi?" Miki repeated, a thoughtful finger tapping her chin. "IDOL, short for Interdependent Dominance Of Ladies…hehe, such a silly name compared to the acronym. Their boss is Shijou Takane, the white-haired princess of unknown origin. Her second-in-command is—"

"Not _that_ basic!" Makoto cut in.

Miki pursed her lips. "Miki can't go that much farther, you know."

"I want to know where their main hideout is. How many members they have. What kind of connection they have with the police."

"Miki doesn't know if your expenses cover the cost of that question," she said with a sly smile.

"Then give me whatever the expenses _do_ cover," Makoto shot back.

"Fine~" She looked up with an uncharacteristically serious expression. "They're strong. Stronger than you think. It's best not to underestimate them, because a bunch of smaller gangs did, and they were all but exterminated. Those twins Takane took under her wing are daughters of the Futamigumi, a notorious gang from back when we were still babies." Miki glances around for eavesdroppers before continuing in a voice just barely audible over the music. "Their influence is far beyond anyone's imagination. You think you have that one detective on your side, don't you? IDOLgumi has much, much more than that. Miki can't really tell you exactly how much, but you really shouldn't look down on them."

Makoto kept a straight face, but she couldn't help but to think about a certain Miuragumi member that had been sent out on a mission to cut down the head of IDOLgumi.

_She's fast, faster than any man she's faced. But did we underestimate them as Miki said? What if she wasn't fast enough to beat those Futami twins—? _

"Makoto-kun?"

Miki was poking at Makoto's cheek when she snapped out of her thoughts. "Sorry, but this is as far as Miki can go. You can have 30% of your pay back as a refund, but—" she leaned forward with a devious smirk. "You're gonna have to get it out yourself."

"Keep it," Makoto said shortly. "As a tip."

"Is there anything _you_ want to tell Miki?" Miki asked brightly.

Makoto smiled softly. "You know I don't sell information, Miki."

"And that's where you're the most boring, Makoto-kun," she replied with a pout as Makoto gathered her jacket to leave.

"And one last thing," she said, standing slowly before giving Miki a hard look over her shoulder. "Was it you who tipped off the police about the whereabouts of the missing 876 trio?"

The millisecond hesitation would have gone unnoticed for anyone else, but to Makoto, it gave away the answer even before Miki's following words. "What would you do if it was?"

"I would ask how you knew."

Makoto could hear the smile in her voice without even looking. "Sorry, Makoto-kun. Your expenses don't cover the cost of that question."

* * *

In a dark alley not too far away from Taruki-Ten, where the rain fell relentlessly down on anything and anyone caught outside, two figures stood facing each other in the near-darkness. One leaned heavily against the wall, breathing raggedly while holding his side. The other stood over him with a loaded weapon, arms shaking from the cold and fear.

"Do it," the wounded man spat, glaring up at his opponent.

He couldn't believe it. All of his comrades. Dead. He forced his eyes forward, refusing to turn around and see their bloody bodies. Jumped by the filthy IDOLgumi in an alley of all clichés. He clutched at his side, feeling the flow of blood slow at the pressure.

He could make it. This girl in front of him, holding the gun in her unsteady hands…he could take her down with a good kick. He'll get out of the alley. Call for help. Report back to Makoto-san, no, Chihaya-san if he could manage it. Hell, he'd report to the head honcho herself. Satisfied with the prospect of being branded the sole survivor, he looked over his opponent once more before setting his resolve.

_Cheh…Ribbons in her hair? Is this girl serious?_

The rest of IDOLgumi had run off in pursuit of another lead, leaving behind this girl—this fragile-looking, knee-buckling little kid—in charge of eliminating any survivors. The first several were easy for her; they were already unconscious on the ground. But when the last one had stood up with a murderous look on his face, she had jumped like a rodent in the presence of a cat. Her gun was now shaking uncontrollably in her hands, and he was more afraid of a misfire than anything.

"Put it down," he hissed. "This ain't a place for people like you."

The girl barely reacted to his words. If anything, her gun started shaking harder.

"I said put it down!"

With a furious growl, he lunged forward, grabbing at the gun and preparing to tackle the girl to the ground. But he flinched back at the sudden sound and light, momentarily stunned from the sensory overload. He barely had time to register what happened before there was another shot.

_Son of a—_

_Bang!_

_Bang! Bang!_

_Bang!_

He was dead before he hit the floor.

Haruka Amami lowered her shaking arms and tried to exhale, but all that came out were terrified whimpers. Realizing what she had done, she turned on her heel and dashed away from the scene of the crime, imagining footsteps chasing after her.

"No, no! Sorry! I'm sorry! Just don't…!" she gasped as she ran, stumbling in the dark, wet streets. Her empty gun still shook violently in her hands, but her fingers would not unclench from the handle and trigger.

This wasn't what she wanted. This wasn't the life she had imagined when she pushed herself to become part of the IDOLgumi.

* * *

A/N #2: So yeah I don't know if you can tell but Miki's dialogue is difficult as hell to write. Not only does she speak in third person but she also has to sound a little airheaded and childish...which is hard to match with the role I gave her. Because badass double-agent secret-keeping information-selling ass-kicking spies can't be 100% happy-go-lucky, even if they are Miki.

And it's really hard to remember that Makoto is a girl because I keep typing "he" on accident. Because let's face it, her role in the fake trailer just oozes masculinity.

Haruka...LOL I don't even know how to incorporate her because she just randomly kills everybody.

And okay the name IDOLgumi sounds totally retarded but I honestly couldn't think of a badass name for Takane's syndicate and Shijougumi didn't sound that hardcore as Miuragumi, you know what I mean? And this way, that line Chihaya says in the trailer...something about idols living in a competitive world...well, it makes sense if she meant IDOLs living in a competitive world. So there's my half-assed explanation. Don't even get me started on that acronym.

note: Taruki-Ten is the name of the restaurant beneath the 765 Pro office, in case you didn't know.


End file.
